


raise me up and pray for forgiveness

by caydiink (gayleb)



Series: feeling alive (isn't as good as it sounds) [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Blood and Injury, Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Drowning, Graphic Description, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Immortality, Major Character Injury, Not Beta Read, Suicidal Thoughts, Two Shot, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayleb/pseuds/caydiink
Summary: Phil sat in the front of the boat, shutting his eyes as he felt the breeze brush against his face, nothing but the sound of the ocean gently lapping at the sides of their boat in the night.Techno silently rowed behind him, occasionally grunting with effort, but offering no conversation. Phil didn’t expect him to, he was used to the silence. He enjoyed it.It was a quiet night, just the two of them out on the water, heading back to their cabin in the Arctic after visiting L’Manberg.It was nice, seeing everyone again. It had been so long since their last visit, Phil had forgotten just how much everyone had grown.AKA a direct follow up to the previous part in the series take me to my grave (but don't you cry for me) it's fifteen years later and a very familiar face finds it's way into the lives of everyone on the SMP, a face that really should be dead by nowAAKA Dream has been drowning for fifteen years, until someone finds him. Featuring more Immortal Dream angst, but this time I add some hurt/comfort because I feel bad
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream, Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone
Series: feeling alive (isn't as good as it sounds) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115975
Comments: 141
Kudos: 1464





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW// There are descriptions of a body that has been drowning for a Long time that are pretty graphic, so if you don't like that, skip from "Looking closer, he realized just how wrong he was." to "there was no saving it now." and also "That was as good a place to start as any." to "He just sat there numbly, staring into the fire raging before him."
> 
> Let me know if there are any other tags/TW's I should add!

Phil sat in the front of the boat, shutting his eyes as he felt the breeze brush against his face, nothing but the sound of the ocean gently lapping at the sides of their boat in the night.

Techno silently rowed behind him, occasionally grunting with effort, but offering no conversation. Phil didn’t expect him to, he was used to the silence. He enjoyed it.

It was a quiet night, just the two of them out on the water, heading back to their cabin in the Arctic after visiting L’Manberg.

It was nice, seeing everyone again. It had been so long since their last visit, Phil had forgotten just how much everyone had grown.

Looking around at the nation L’Manberg had become, how it flourished and thrived after the years of effort put into it, Phil couldn’t help but smile.

It was a nation born of blood and violence, it’s ground littered with memories of war and destruction, the history told through tales of war and hatred.

But it had become so much more. Everyone had made it so much more than what it once was.

Finally, after years of struggle and pain and betrayal and loss, L’Manberg had become the beacon of hope, of revolution and peace it was always meant to be. It had become a home for those who had lost theirs along the way.

The night was calm and Phil was at ease. Peace had finally found them all, falling over them like a blanket, comforting like a blanket on a cold winter's eve.

Phil opened his eyes, scanning the endless sea in front of him, watching the setting sun reflected onto the waves before him, the water rippling and shifting as they quietly made their way through it.

Something in the distance caught his eye, his head whipping towards it.

Phil squinted, trying to spot whatever it was that had caught his attention, scanning the waves carefully, searching for any sign of what he saw.

But there was nothing, just them and the ocean for miles.

Phil was almost ready to give up, convinced that it had simply been a trick of the light, a flash of the setting sun from the corner of his eye. He was getting old after all, his eyes certainly weren’t what they used to be.

Suddenly there was another flash. Something broke through the waves, reaching up towards the open air, grabbing for anything it could find before falling back beneath the surface empty handed.

It was a hand.

There was someone out here. Someone in trouble.

Phil turned around and met Techno with wide eyes.

“Techno, start rowing that way,” he said frantically, pointing towards where he had seen the hand reaching out.

Techno gave Phil a confused look, opening his mouth to protest before Phil cut him off.

“I don’t care what you’re about to say, someone’s out here and they need help, so start rowing. Quickly.”

Techno’s mouth snapped shut and he started rowing without a word, shoulders tense and eyes filled with concentration.

Phil turned back to the front of the boat, eyes trained on where he had seen the hand, looking for any other sign of life.

There was nothing for a moment, and Phil feared they were too late, that whoever it was had already drowned, their rescue just out of reach.

But then Phil saw a head break the surface, long hair covering the person’s face, tangled and matted on their head as water dripped down.

They were quickly gaining on the person, just a few more moments and Phil would be able to grab their hand, pulling whoever it was from their certain doom.

Even from where their boat sat, still a few feet away from the being, Phil could hear their frantic gasp for air, he could see the way their hands tried to keep them afloat.

Their movements were jerky and uncoordinated, small and stiff and nowhere near strong enough to keep them above the water.

“Hurry up Techno,” Phil urged as he watched the person’s head fall beneath the surface yet again.

Techno let out a groan but he sped up, forcing himself to row faster even as his muscles screamed at him to stop.

They were so close, just a bit further.

Phil pushed himself forward and leaned over the side of the boat, ignoring all of Techno’s yells to _’be careful!’_ and _’please for the love of god do not tip this fucking boat.’_

He watched the person sinking further down, and his mind went blank as he watched them slip further and further away.

His hand plunged into the frigid water, the sudden change in temperature sending a shock up his arm, but Phil just grit his teeth and leaned further over the edge.

Whoever it was sunk just out of reach, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the top of the person’s head before they sunk even further.

Phil began to pull off his robe, hands shaking with adrenaline, eyes fixed on the body as it continued to sink deeper and deeper.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Techni said, grabbing phil’s arm before he could move, “Phil, you can’t just jump out of the boat oh my god.”

Phil glared at Techno, tugging his arm out of Techno’s grasp. “What the fuck d’you want me to do then? Let them fuckin drown?” Phil asked, tension thick in the air between the two.

Techno’s gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “No,” he said, easing Phil back down into the boat, “you wait here to help pull him out, I’ll go in and get him.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to say that there wasn’t enough time, and they were going to lose whoever was down there if he didn’t go _now,_ but before he could he saw Techno roll up his sleeves, saw the determination in his eyes as he gave Phil one last glance, and he saw Techno disappear over the edge of the boat, landing in the water with a small splash.

Phil watched Techno swim down, long hair splayed out behind him, almost ethereal in the water, the light casting a heavenly glow on the man.

He clutched the edge of the boat as he watched techno’s arms wrap around whoever it was down there, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ear as he watched him swim back towards the surface, body clutched tightly in one arm as he used the other to make his way back towards the boat.

Techno resurfaced with a gasp, water dripping down his face, long strands of hair hanging down in front of his eyes as he slowly made his way back to Phil.

He coughed a few times before grabbing the edge of the boat with his free hand, lifting the person as much as he could towards Phil.

“Here,” he said, voice rough and his teeth chattering in the cold, “pull him back into the boat.”

Phil grabbed the person’s arms and lugged them into the boat, ignoring the water that drenched his clothes as he clutched them to his chest.

He set them down in the middle of the boat, legs splayed out in front of them as their torso rested against Phil’s legs.

He brushed his hand through the tangled mess of hair on the stranger's head, something about it so familiar, yet he couldn’t figure out from where.

Techno pulled himself back onto the boat, squeezing as much water as he could out of his hair and clothes, accepting Phil’s rob silently when it was handed to him, trying to dry himself off as best as he could.

“Jeez,” Techno muttered, staring at the person with a hint of disgust, “they look fuckin awful, not gonna lie.”

Phil just hummed in agreement, running his hands along their exposed skin, trying to bring some heat back into their cold limbs.

_How long had they been out here?_

Techno shut his eyes as he caught his breath, taking a moment to compose himself. This was not how he expected to spend his evening if he was being honest.

“What do we do with ‘em now?” he asked, eyes still shut as he breathed, the silence that had so recently been comforting now eerie and off putting.

“I mean, we need to make sure they’re okay,” Phil said, giving up on detangling their hair and simply brushing it aside, trying to get a closer look at their face, “they’re still breathing, thank god, so it’s really just a matter of-”

Techno opened his eyes when Phil cut off abruptly, shocked by the man’s sudden silence.

He saw why immediately.

There, sitting in their boat, body half frozen and his skin cracked and peeling away, was Dream.

Dream, the man who had died fifteen years ago.

Dream, who had been pushed into this very sea right in front of Techno. He had seen the man fall, heard the splash, stood there with everyone else until they knew there was no chance of Dream coming back.

Dream, who, by all logic, should be dead.

He was sitting here in front of Techno, chest rising and falling with each breath he took.

No matter how dead he looked, Dream was very much alive.

Techno looked up at Phil, his eyes wide with fear, so unused to the feeling it only terrified him more.

His voice shook as he spoke, body trembling and skin pale. 

As if he had seen a ghost.

“What the fuck,” Techno said slowly, “is he doing here?”

Phil just stared at the body, at _Dream,_ and shook his head. What was there to say?

He looked up at Techno, meeting his eyes as he clutched Dream tighter, his voice soft but the shock beneath it clear.

“We need to go back to L’Manberg,” Phil said, breathing a sigh of relief when Techno nodded shakily, hands moving to the oars at his side.

Neither of them knew how Dream was alive, how he had survived beneath the water for fifteen years, but they didn’t have time to question it.

This wasn’t fifteen years ago. Techno wasn’t standing on a boat, powerless to stop the murder of his ally, his _friend,_ only able to watch as Dream fell overboard, dragged down to the open arms of death waiting beneath him.

Or, what _should_ have been death.

Techno was here and now, Dream sat on his boat, alive and not exactly well, but he would take what he could get.

Techno looked at his friend, deathly pale and skin tight against his bones, seaweed and coral stuck to him, and he made up his mind.

He wouldn’t let his friend down again, no matter what happened.

* * *

As soon as their boat hit the shore, Techno and Phil burst into motion, scrambling out of the boat and hauling Dream out of the boat, Techno cradling him gently in his arms.

_(He was so light, nothing but skin and bones at this point. The only thing that assured techno he was alive was the rise and fall of his chest, no matter how shaky it was._

_Dream was trembling in his arms, shivers wracking his body as cold ocean water dripped from his form, leaving a trail behind as they made their way through the town._

_It wasn’t blood trailing down his friend’s frail limbs, but it may as well have been with the damage done to him._

_Techno avoided looking down. If he did, he may stop and never start again, and where would Dream be then?_

_He needed to stay strong, just for a little bit longer. He could do this._

_He should have done this that night, before he was cast aside and left to drown._

_But Techno couldn’t change the past, and all he could do was work on fixing the future. It was the least Dream deserved.)_

Phil led the way through the winding paths of the city. Old wooden paths had been upgraded years ago, replaced with actual pathways made of stone and brick, various plants growing along the side of the road, blooming beautifully beneath the moon.

The aesthetic of this city had always impressed techno.

Now though, holding the body of his friend who had gone through god knows what for fifteen years, everything he had once found beautiful was tainted.

The stars above mocked him, laughed at him as he tried to fix his past mistakes, dealing with the consequences of his choices from years ago, his past finally catching up with him.

The flowers that flourished and grew around them were a cruel reminder of how he had let Dream die beneath that ocean, the soft petals and delicate leaves a clear sign of life that Techno wasn’t sure Dream would ever truly regain.

“We’re almost there,” Phil said, voice breathless as they sprinted down the street, “he’s just gotta hold on a little longer.”

Techno looked at the man in his arms, the man who had seemingly been trapped beneath the ocean for years, the man who sat in his arms, breathing and _very much alive._

“I don’t think we have to worry about him dying on us any time soon,” Techno said.

Phil didn’t respond, but he could feel a weight settle on both of their shoulders, guilt and confusion resting on their minds heavily, threatening to drag them both down.

Neither one of them wanted to think about the implications of what was said. They didn’t think they could stomach it at the moment.

_(A man who couldn’t die, left to drown, trapped beneath the waves for years as he could do nothing but suffer and scream into the sea, knowing no one would ever call back-)_

They made their way through the nation, ignoring everyone they passed, confused shouts echoing behind them as they kept running.

Techno could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the earth beneath his feet as he ran grounding him, his clothes cold and heavy as water still dripped from them, staining the concrete beneath him with every step he took.

Finally, after maybe fifteen minutes of running _(it was still too long Dream was hurt Dream was injured he needed to move faster-)_ they stopped in front of their home in L’Manberg, slamming the door open and rushing inside.

“Put him down on the carpet,” Phil said, shoving the table out of the way and making space for Dream, “I’m gonna grab the medkit, you light a fire and start gathering all of the blankets, we’re gonna have to warm him up.”

Techno nodded, kneeling in front of the fireplace and placing a few logs within it, grabbing a flint and steel from his bag and quickly starting a fire.

He shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and collecting his thoughts.

Dream was here. He was here in their home, and every second Techno sat here was a second wasted, a second he _could_ be helping Dream, but was instead panicking and trying not to vomit.

He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the aches and pains in his muscles or the way his bones creaked and groaned as he stood.

Techno looked away from Dream as he passed, heading straight towards the stairs to go and retrieve all the blankets he could find.

He felt guilty, leaving Phil alone in the room, left to deal with Dream on his own while Techno went and got _blankets._

It felt like running away. Like giving in to his weakness, and fleeing as fast as he could.

That was what he was doing though, was it not?

He couldn’t stand the sight of the man who currently laid in his living room. He could barely think about him without feeling the urge to hurl.

Techno passed Phil on the stairs, the older man not even glancing at him as he rushed into the living room, dropping to his knees by Dream’s side.

He ignored the guilt rushing through him as he fled further up the stairs, the sickly stench of salt water and decay following him as he ran.

Phil fell next to Dream, bandages and other items he may need placed next to him, his hands hovering over Dream with uncertainty, taking a moment to simply observe the man.

To state it plainly, Dream looked awful.

His clothes were torn and caked with mud and dried blood, pieces of cloth having been worn away over time, the clothes beyond saving at this point.

Phil had, at first, thought the pieces of seaweed and coral wrapped around Dream’s body simply rested on the skin, getting tangled as they grew around him, but ultimately harmless. 

Looking closer, he realized just how wrong he was.

The plants had grown _into_ Dream, sprouting out from beneath his skin, trails of dried blood surrounding each puncture wound. Dream had become part of the ocean, bits of coral fused to his skin, some having spread within him, latching onto his bones.

The seaweed threaded up his body, weaving in and out of his flesh, forming a morbid replica of the chains that had kept him prisoner within the ocean, blood and sand staining his dried and irritated skin.

Pieces of flesh had begun to flake off, leaving raw and exposed wounds, infection and inflammation gathering around the edges of each injury, traces of dried blood left untouched by the water.

Dream’s mask was cracked and jagged, the edges of the porcelain digging into his face, the once white porcelain now red with blood.

His cheeks were sunken and hollow, the man before him having been reduced to nothing more than a skeleton in human’s clothing. Old and new scars littered his skin, now visible from beneath the torn clothes.

Phil could see coats of blood and bile coating the inside of Dream’s mouth, his throat raw and bloody, old scars and new wounds clearly caused by Dream’s nails tearing through his skin.

His hair was tangled and knotted, coated with blood and grime and Phil didn’t have time to deal with it right now, but he knew he would have to cut it all off, there was no saving it now.

_(Phil remembered walking into the small cabin he shared with Techno and finding the hybrid sitting behind Dream, his fingers twisting through the man’s hair gracefully, weaving small, intricate braids into it._

_He could see the admin’s smile beneath his partially pushed up mask, his posture the most relaxed Phil had ever seen._

_Techno’s hair was pulled back into one long braid, small gold ribbons and chains weaved into the hair seamlessly._

_They both looked so different from the personas they were known for. They looked so calm, so_ happy. _A far cry from the bloodthirsty villains they were seen as._

_Phil smiled at them as he brushed the snow off of his cloak, ruffling Dream’s hair slightly and squeezing Techno’s shoulder, ignoring his shouts of anger as he passed, making his way into their small kitchen to start cooking dinner._

_He listened to Dream’s laughter, loud and wheezing and so lighthearted, Techno’s light chuckle as he told the man to ‘just stay still for one fucking minute,’ and he didn’t know how the rest of the server saw them as heartless beasts._

_Phil knew they had done wrong, he knew they had fucked up, had made mistakes, but who on this server hadn’t?_

_Phil had seen the crimes they committed, helped them commit them in some cases, but he also saw the aftermath._

_He saw Dream, clutching his arms with trembling hands, hood pulled low over his mask, his shoulders tense and back rigid. Heard the man’s silent cries as he comforted himself as best he could._

_He saw Techno, sitting in the living room, eyes glazed as he stared ahead of him, watching but never truly seeing, the voices that called for death and destruction loud and ringing in his mind, his hands stained with the blood he hated himself for enjoying._

_Phil saw them for who they were, he saw them as_ people, _not just villains._

_He looked at them, the weight of the world that had never been kind to them pulling at their hearts, tempting them further down the path they had never wished to walk in the first place._

_At least, when the violence was over and the world fell quiet, they could find comfort in each other.)_

He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through Dream’s hoodie -if it could even be considered that anymore- before getting to work.

Phil pushed all of his personal feelings to the back of his mind. All of the guilt and horror and disgust and pain he felt looking at Dream was shoved to the side. Now wasn’t the time for tears and panic attacks, he had to act quickly.

He soaked a cloth in the bowl of warm water he had grabbed from the kitchen, wiping away as much of the blood and dirt as he could, trying not to push too hard and aggravate the man’s wounds.

Once his skin was as clean as it could be, Phil wasn’t sure where to begin. There was just _so much_ to fix, he had no clue where to start.

He heard Techno’s footsteps making their way back down stairs, heading into the living room. Before Phil could warn him, call out to him, tell him he’d really rather stay outside, to spare himself the pain of seeing a friend so broken, the hybrid made his way into the room.

The footsteps stopped abruptly behind Phil, and he couldn’t bring himself to turn and see the look on Techno’s face.

The room was silent as Techno took in the sight of Dream, neither of them speaking, holding their breath as they waited for the other shoe to drop.

Phil heard the sound of fabric rustling, and he heard the pile of blankets Techno had gathered being dropped carelessly behind him, the man’s footsteps already quickly retreating.

“I’m gonna get the others,” Techno said, and before Phil could respond the door was slammed shut, leaving Phil alone.

He looked back down at Dream, at his waxy skin and sunken cheeks and bruised wrists from where the chains sat, and he sighed.

That was as good a place to start as any.

Phil began to break the iron cuffs from around Dream’s wrists, working silently, his body numb and mind somewhere far away, silent tears falling down his cheeks as he slowly freed dream, once and for all.

He pulled the seaweed from Dream’s skin, gagging as he had to tug when they got caught inside of him, the leaves stained a dark red, fresh blood pouring out of each hole he reopened, skin tearing with each tug.

He tore the coral off of Dream, skin ripping away with the plant, using his scissors to cut chunks off of him, slicing easily through the flesh as his hands were stained red, scissors slipping from his hand once the final piece of coral was removed.

Phil ignored the pile of bloody plantation, chunks of Dream’s skin and bones still stuck to them, blood pooling on the floor beneath them all, coating his hands and the front of his shirt.

He looked at Dream, gaping wounds covering almost all of his visible skin, blood flowing freely out of each new injury, skin torn and muscle visible beneath the gashes.

His hands shook as he reached for the cloth again, ignoring how the bowl of water turned red as he wiped away the blood, ignoring how hot it felt against his still cold skin.

Phil rubbed some salve on the infected wounds, wincing at the puss that dripped from them at the slightest bit of pressure, staining the tattered ruins of Dream’s signature hoodie.

He soaked the bandages in a healing potion, coating them in the liquid before carefully wrapping each wound, covering every trace of what the man had gone through beneath them.

He used bloody fingers to pull shards of his mask from his face, wiping and bandaging the wounds before they had the chance to bleed out, stray drops of blood covering the freckles that dotted Dream’s face, vibrant against his deathly pale skin.

Finally, once the last shard of broken porcelain was removed, Dream’s face uncovered for all to see, or to see whatever part of it wasn’t covered in bandages, which wasn’t much, did Phil breathe a sigh of relief.

He could already see blood beginning to soak through the bandages, but they would last for at least a few hours, and Phil couldn’t deal with rebandaging them any time soon. 

If he had to look at Dream’s body, at the gaping holes and chunks of flesh torn out and red, cracking skin, he would actually lose his mind.

He just sat there numbly, staring into the fire raging before him, heat radiating from the fireplace as Dream rested before him, eyes shut as if he were simply asleep.

As if he shouldn’t be dead right now. Shouldn’t have been dead for fifteen fucking years.

Phil reached a hand behind him, blindly reaching for the pile of blankets Techno had left him.

Once he found them, he dragged all of them onto his lap, draping a few of them over Dream’s still shivering body, wrapping the remaining blankets around his own shoulders.

Phile sat there in silence, staring into the fire as his mind wandered, nothing but the sound of the fire crackling softly and Dream’s laboured breathing reaching his ears.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed, it could have been hours for all he knew, but the moon was high in the sky when he heard the door open, multiple voices all speaking at once hitting his ears immediately.

Jesus, Techno really did mean _everyone._

He winced at the sound of footsteps making their way down the hall, not bothering to turn around in an attempt to greet them, choosing instead to pull the blankets tighter around himself.

There was a chorus of gasps from behind him as all of the chatter fell silent, everyone taking in the sight before them.

No one spoke, the silence louder than anything they could have said.

“What…” Sapnap said, taking a step forward, hands reaching out in front of him as if to touch Dream, hovering awkwardly in the hair, “what the fuck?”

“Phil what is this?” Tommy asked, his voice quiet and unsure, “he can’t be- there’s no fucking way he’s alive, right? It’s been _years._ ”

Phil just shook his head, his voice caught in his throat, scared that if he opened his mouth he may start screaming, and no one needed that right now.

There was a broken sob from someone behind him, Phil couldn’t tell who it was, and then Sapnap was there, crashing to his knees on the other side of Dream, George and Bad close behind him.

The three of them had tears shining in their eyes, Sapnap openly sobbing as he grabbed Dream’s hand, Bad knelt by Dream’s head, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, fingertips brushing against the bandages that littered his face.

“Dream, Jesus Christ,” Sapnap said, leaning into George’s side as he sat down next to the younger, “I don’t even know what to do. How the fuck is he alive?”

“Is he,” George said nervously, looking up to meet Phil’s eyes, “is he okay? Like, is he alive?”

“Dunno how, he really shouldn’t be,” Techno said, Phil shooting him a look of thanks over his shoulder. Techno smiled back, ending up as more of a grimace, but the sentiment was there.

“But he drowned!” Tubbo said, voice loud and filled with panic, gripping Tommy’s hand tightly in his own, watching Dream with wide eyes, “he drowned, we all saw it, so how is he here?”

Sam and Punz stood at the back of the room, watching Dream with wide eyes, the conversation and sobs of their friends falling on deaf ears.

_(He can remember how it felt, pushing Dream over the edge, giving him the final shove as he sank beneath the surface, disappearing into the void below._

_He didn’t speak the rest of the night, or week, shutting himself in his home, holding shaking hands out in front of him as he thought about what he had done._

_It was the right thing to do, right? It had to be done. Dream was dangerous, unhinged. He had to be stopped._

_Right?_

_He shoved the guilt down, forcing it from his mind and moving on, pretending like everything was okay, like he hadn’t pushed his friend to his doom, like he wasn’t a murderer._

_Life went on, but the memory of Dream’s sweater beneath his hands, Dream’s panicked scream of_ ’wait!’ _repeating in his mind late at night, never left._

_Sam had to live with the memories. He had to live, for Dream, who had never gotten the chance.)_

“This is our fault,” Bad said, staring sadly at Dream’s face, thumb rubbing gently against his cheek, wincing at the rough texture of the bandages that covered his skin, “we should have realized something was off. We should have _listened_ to him.”

“How were we supposed to know?” Quackity cried, throwing his arms up as he spoke, “he never said anything, and that’s kind of a big assumption to make.”

“We should have asked him then,” Puffy said, eyes filled with tears as she looked at Dream, her duckling, lying motionless on the floor, “it never should have gone that far.”

Niki grabbed her hand, squeezing gently and offering a smile which Puffy returned, wiping the tears that fell away with her other hand.

“We’re here now,” Eret said, stepping closer to Dream before looking at the bloody remains of Phil’s operation, grimacing at the sight, “and we will do better this time.”

“But what even happened?” Tommy asked, sitting next to Tubbo on one of the couches, sides pressed against each other, a reminder that they were there, “like, seriously, how _is_ he alive?”

No one had an answer for that, each person turning the problem over in their minds, searching for some sort of answer.

“Maybe he was a hybrid?” Ranboo suggested, hands twisting nervously in front of him as he sat on the floor by Dream’s feet, eyes moving quickly across the man’s bandaged body, never lingering on one area for too long.

Everyone thought about it for a moment, silence once again falling over the usually loud and energetic group.

“Maybe?” Sam said, looking down at Dream with guilty eyes, “but wouldn’t we be able to tell? Like, wouldn’t he look different?”

Everyone’s eyes flew to Dream’s face, hidden beneath bandages but undeniably human.

“Besides,” George said, one arm wrapped around Sapnap’s shoulders, pulling the man closer into his side, “he would have told us if he was. We’ve known him for years.”

Tommy frowned, brow furrowing as he looked at Dream’s face. “So he’s not a hybrid, any other ideas?”

No one spoke, they didn’t know what to say.

What the fuck _was_ Dream?

They sat there in silence for a while, everyone gathered around Dream, watching him, listening to him breathe, just seeing him _alive._

“We should get him into a bed,” Puffy said, her eyes red from crying, hand still holding onto Niki’s tightly, “he needs to rest.”

Phil blinked, taking in a breath before turning to look at Puffy. He nodded once, clearing his throat before speaking up.

“He can stay in the extra room upstairs,” he said, voice scratchy, coughing a few times after he spoke.

Techno grabbed his hand from where he was sat next to Phil, one of the blankets having been draped around his shoulders, clothes mostly dry from the fire still gently popping within the fireplace.

“I’ll take him up,” Bad said, carefully gathering Dream in his arms, simply offering Phil a smile at the look of relief and thanks he sent the man.

“I’ll come with you,” Sapnap said, standing up quickly, George following the man and grabbing his arm when he started to sway on his feet.

“I’ll go too,” George said, grabbing Sapnap’s hand, eyes trained on Dream in Bad’s arms.

Bad just smiled at them, motioning towards the stairs with his head. “C’mon then,” he said, making his way out of the room.

“Second door on the left once you get up the stairs,” Phil called out after them.

Bad gave him a hum of acknowledgement before their footsteps faded up the stairs, the distant sound of a door opening and shutting reaching their ears.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Eret said, pulling their knees close to their chest, wrapping their hands around their legs and resting their chin on their knees, “he always is.”

No one said anything, they just prayed that Eret was right.

Phil sat there, Dream’s blood dried on his hands, the rest of the server settled around his living room, waiting for Dream to wake up. Waiting for some sort of explanation.

Dream had waited for fifteen years though, so Phil figured they could wait a couple of hours.

Bad, George and Sapnap never came back downstairs.

Phil really didn’t blame them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFDSHJGDFGHVFDHBF it took a lil while, but here it is, chapter two :)
> 
> Ignore the fact that this was supposed to be the last chapter aha, if you saw that there was only supposed to be two chapters, no u didnt <3
> 
> TW: Vomitting, Self harm/mentions of past self harm, thoughts of suicide, pretty graphic descriptions of wounds, panic attacks, and just all the tags from the first chapter
> 
> please stay safe, and tell me if I need to add any other tags/trigger warnings

Dream knew what to expect when he opened his eyes. He had lived through it every second of every day for however long he had been down there.

He had accepted his fate, knowing he was doomed for the rest of eternity, forgotten beneath the waves as the world moved on without him.

It was okay. He was fine.

_(He wasn’t fine. His lungs were full of saltwater and he could feel something growing within him and the water in his mouth tasted like blood and bile and whatever else was in this goddamn ocean._

_His vision was blurry and his eyes stung but still he opened them, waking with a gasp as his lungs filled with water yet again, blood coating his throat as he tried to cough it up._

_It wouldn’t work, but his body seemed unable to accept that._

_His muscles spasmed as he drowned, chains digging into sensitive skin already rubbed raw._

_His screams were muffled by the water around him, by the water within him._

_Dream had no one. Dream was no one._

_He shut his eyes as he felt himself die, waiting for the day his mind would break beyond repair._

_Waiting for the day he was finally free._

_Not from the watery grave he was stuck within for eternity, but from the confines of his mind, of his body which never let him truly die._

_Dream shut his eyes, and let the void take him._

_Just for a moment.)_

He opened his mouth, waiting for the familiar taste of saltwater to hit his tongue. Waiting for the blood and mucus and vomit to coat his throat as he shook, the familiar feeling of water filling his lungs only a moment behind the initial shock.

He waited for the soft clinking of metal as his body shook without his consent, fighting against an enemy who didn’t really exist.

Even in undeath, Dream could never stop fighting. It was ingrained into his being, a part of him he would never be able to leave behind.

He just wanted it all to end.

Dream waited for the feeling of something _shifting_ beneath his skin, growing within him, forcing their way through his flesh and bones. _Becoming_ part of him.

He waited for the feeling of unending wrongness. The type of feeling that made him want to tear off his skin and pull on his hair and scream until his throat was hoarse and his lungs gave out.

He waited.

And waited.

_And waited._

And yet it never came.

The longer he waited, eyes shut, ignoring what had to be the cold, unforgiving ocean around him, the longer he realised a few key points.

Mainly, he wasn’t underwater.

_Dream wasn’t underwater._

He kept his eyes shut, unwilling to wake up from what must be a dream. There was no other explanation. This couldn’t be real, it just _couldn’t._

He couldn’t let himself hope, he couldn’t believe he was finally free, because the inevitable return to reality would hurt that much more. The promise of hope, of salvation just within reach, only to be tugged out of his grasp before he could grab it.

He couldn’t deal with the heartbreak of being left alone again. He had been abandoned once already, and that alone nearly broke him.

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, tears trailing down his cheeks as he waited to wake up. He waited for the water to rush into his lungs and the seaweed and the coral and kelp and the sand to bury him alive, because maybe that would give him even a moment of relief from drowning.

He couldn’t watch the family he had fought so hard to keep leave him again. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do it he couldn’t do it hecouldn’t-

Something touched Dream’s forehead, gently brushing across his scalp. He could feel the heat radiating from their skin, seeping into him, his bones, his blood, every inch of his being.

_(What was touching him? Something else, here to claim yet another part of him? Here to take another fraction of whatever he had once been from him?_

_Dream couldn’t lose himself again. He didn’t know if he could pull himself back together._

_He was broken, shards of the humanity he had once worn so proudly now lay at his feet, broken and battered and bruise and covered in blood, staining the earth he walked on._

_He was vile. He was tainted. He was left to drown by the people he had considered family, and now Dream was alone, claimed by the ocean, every inch of his very being slowly stolen from him._

_Dream was alone._

_Thinking back on the friends he had made, the family he had formed with his own two hands, weak and vulnerable and kind beneath his grasp, Dream knew he was never meant to be loved. Dream wasn’t deserving of such luxuries._

_He was always meant to be alone.)_

Dream flinched back, his head slamming into something solid, a loud crack echoing throughout the room.

_(The room?)_

“Oh fuck,” he thought he heard someone say, but his mind was fuzzy and his ears were stuffed with cotton, the sounds around him muffled and warped by the time they reached his brain.

He kept his eyes shut, nothing but the sound of people moving and voices yelling reaching his ears, fueling the panic that was building in his chest.

_(Was this real? Was he free?)_

Hands reached for him, grabbing his arms, his skin screaming in pain as bandages _(bandages?)_ rubbed against raw flesh, sending waves of pain up his arms.

Dream opened his mouth, to scream, or to choke or the drown or to cry he wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was hurting and he was somewhere new and he was confused and scared and he was so fucking alone.

Dream just wanted his family. He wanted to be held and cared for, but the thought of anyone touching him made him want to die more than he already did.

_(Could he be held? Could he be home? Could he finally rest?)_

There was so much noise and motion, and Dream didn’t open his eyes, but he could feel light all around him, attacking him from all sides, blinding him even beneath his eyelids.

_(The water had been so dark. So quiet. So empty._

_This room he laid in now was so full. There was constant movement, a steady stream of noise, banging and cursing and shouting and it’s all too much for Dream. Everything is too much-)_

Dream felt bile rise in his throat, heaving coughs wracked his frail form as he shivered, a bone deep chill courtside through him. Blood dripped down his chin as he heaved, gasping for air he had been denied for so long.

His chest rattled with every breath, the sound of water sloshing around inside of him audible with ever cough, blood staining his chin and his chest as he kept coughing.

Dream tried to suck in air, tried to breathe, to calm down, to do something, _anything,_ but he couldn’t. All he could do was sit there and cough and pray he wouldn’t die again.

_(Pray that if he did, it would finally stick.)_

He heard himself gagging, bile rising in his throat, and he felt strong hands gripping his arm and pushing him onto his side on the edge of whatever he was laying on.

Dream choked on the vomit as he threw up, gagging as he lost all control of his limbs, shaking uncontrollably as his body tried to rid itself of whatever had made its way into his stomach.

Dream could feel blood dripping down his skin, he could feel stitches tearing and wounds reopening, and everything felt so strong against his skin so unused to contact it made him want to scream.

But then he was throwing up again, and anything he may have wanted to say died before it could begin, and even though Dream was free from the ocean, he was still stuck, powerless to stop the world around him, left at its mercy as it toyed with him, watching him struggle as the gods who never warned him of what a god among men truly meant laughed.

Dream could feel a hand running through his hair, and he wanted to cry. To scream at whoever it was to stop touching him, to let him go, to back away and never touch him again.

_(He leaned into the touch, desperate for the warmth it radiated after nothing but years of freezing water and a total, all encompassing emptiness.)_

His hands shook as they gripped the blanket that was resting on top of him, bloody fingers twisting into the fabric, trying to drown out everything else around him, focusing on that one point of contact.

_(He remembers nails tearing into his skin. His nails._

_There was blood coating his hands, his own flesh beneath his nails, staining the water red with his blood._

_The pain was grounding at first. It made him feel alive. He knew he was still a person, he was still there, he still existed._

_He tore at his skin until he was coated in red, relishing in the sting of the saltwater as he drowned yet again._

_It became a game of sorts. Would he drown before he could bleed himself dry?_

_It wasn’t a fun game, but it kept him present._

_He stopped playing after he felt something shift beneath his skin while he was scratching at it. The feeling of utter wrongness enough to deter him from the game for good._

_Another thing taken from him by the ocean around him._

_Another piece of Dream’s mind, slowly drifting further and further away, taken by the tide, never to be seen again.)_

Dream tried to scream once he had finished throwing up, mouth open and eyes still squeezed shut, blocking out the world and the reality he would soon have to face,

_(If he never opened his eyes he could stay in the void, drifting somewhere in between life and death. He wouldn’t die. He couldn’t._

_But that didn’t mean he had to live._

_He didn’t have to face the world that had left him for dead, the friends that betrayed him and the family that had left him._

_He wouldn’t have to face his past mistakes or the choices that led him here, to this very moment._

_Dream wanted to stay in the void. The void was safe, nothing could reach him here._

_But reality came knocking, as it always did, and no matter how fast Dream ran, fate would be faster._

_The past always caught up, and gods were no exception.)_

His throat burned as he tried to scream, nothing but a broken, pained whimper tearing from his throat.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fucking fair._

Dream didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be alive, he didn’t want to be free or breathing or bleeding or feeling or loving or hurting or leaving the way he did.

He didn’t want to be human.

_(Dream had seen humanity. He had seen the wonders of the world and the joys of the humans that lived within them. He had envied them, the pure, naive awe they saw the world with, everything that meant nothing to Dream was so important to the humans._

_He hadn’t understood. He didn’t get why they stared at the sky for so long, or watched the leaves as they changed with the seasons, or sat by the river as it flowed._

_It happened every day, every month, every year. It was nothing special._

_But it was never about the world. It never had been about the world._

_It was about experiencing it, living it, taking everything in before you were gone for good and missed your chance._

_Dream had never understood the rush, the building anxiety of not doing enough, not accomplishing enough before his time was up. He never had, and he never would._

_But he thinks, maybe, he can feel that same awe. He can watch the world change and evolve and see it for the life it represents. Change will come, and instead of running from it, Dream embraces it._

_He thought it would be enough, to love like them and feel like them and walk among them._

_Maybe it had been, once upon a time._

_Or maybe Dream was delusional from the start.)_

There were people all around him, touching him, talking to him, but Dream heard none of it. His mind went blank, static filling his thoughts as he let himself drift, unseeing, unhearing, and feelings in the chaos of the world around him.

He didn’t want to deal with this. He couldn’t deal with this.

He wanted to be back beneath the waves, where everything hurt, but it made _sense._

Nothing made sense anymore. Why was he here? Why was he saved? Did he not deserve the punishment he had been given?

_(He knows, deep down, that no one deserves what he went through. He’s not dumb._

_But if he didn’t deserve it, why did it happen? It couldn’t have been for nothing, it had to be for something._

_Dream couldn’t have suffered through it all for no reason._

_It had to mean something.)_

The yelling quieted around Dream the longer he lay there, unresponsive. He felt the hands that once gripped him with such fear and panic slowly easing, until finally releasing him completely.

His entire body was sore, a bone deep ache coursing through him as his skin burned beneath the bandages. He could feel fresh blood welling up beneath the cloth, staining the once white fabric a deep, crimson red.

His mouth was dry and his throat burned and he could still taste bile in his mouth. Every breath made him panic, fearing that eventually, he will gasp for air only for his lungs to fill with water yet again, his freedom nothing more than a cruel joke from the gods.

The complete _stillness_ within him was jarring. He had grown used to the feeling of something within him, growing and twisting it’s way through his muscles and flesh. The feeling of emptiness jarred him.

He felt alone, the world he had known for however long he was stuck had suddenly been torn away, replaced with the new world of today.

Dream felt dead.

He stayed there for minutes, hours, maybe even days, his internal clock basically broken beyond repair at this point. After the days bleeding into months bleeding into years beneath the waves, his judgement of time was poor at best.

His heart calmed from the frantic pounding of his earlier panic, now a steady beat in his ears, a reminder that he was alive, that, at least for now, his unending death was over.

Dream couldn’t believe it. A part of him refused to accept it, that he was free, that it was over. He thought that, as soon as he opened his eyes, he would still be down there, chains dragging him down and the ocean reclaiming him.

But there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind, whispering to him.

_what if?_ it said, whispers reaching every corner of his mind, filling the void he had grown so used to, _what if it’s real? what if you’re free, you’re out, you can finally move on?_

Dream wanted to cry. He wanted to yell, and shout, and die and live and he wanted to be human, _fully_ human, but he never wanted to face his humanity again.

He wanted to cry out, scream at the universe that had dealt him this life, beg for its forgiveness and ask for a second chance. A chance to do better, to _be_ better.

_How do I move on?_ he wanted to ask, _how am I supposed to keep living?_

The universe didn’t answer, it never did.

_Why am I here?_ he begged, gripping the blanket tightly, fingers stained red with old and new blood, with his blood and the blood of his friends and family and the people he killed that could never be washed away.

He got no response, the emptiness of the world kept at bay behind closed eyes was suffocating, it filled his lungs like the saltwater he once breathed, and it _burned._

He waited for a response, an answer, an apology. But it never came.

Dream waited and waited and waited

_(and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited for years beneath a sea, waiting for something to pluck him from the tide, unprepared for what exactly saviour meant.)_

And then, Dream got tired of waiting.

Taking a deep breath, Dream quieted his mind and relaxed his body, the pain lessening, only a distant ache instead of the ever-present throb it had become.

Dream held his breath.

And opened his eyes.

The world was _bright,_ after years of nothing but darkness, even the smallest amount of light burned.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, blinking rapidly, trying to get used to the light, before opening his eyes ever so slightly, squinting at the world around him.

Everything was blurry. Shapes and objects swirled and blurred together, the edges of his vision still as dark as the ocean, but god if it didn’t feel nice to _see_ again.

The room he was in was simple, or so he assumed. The most he could make out was a light green blanket draped over him, and a wooden desk against the wall across from him, something that may be a lantern giving off a soft glow from the table.

He twisted his head, looking around at the room in its entirety, taking in every detail he could make out, trying to blink the fuzziness from his vision to no avail.

The room evoked a familiar twinge in the back of his mind, a distant memory struggling to resurface as his thoughts jumbled together, becoming one screaming cacophony of noise.

The blanket was dry beneath his hands, and there was no clinking of chains as he moved, the restraining netherite cuffs nowhere to be seen.

_(Did he not deserve to be chained? Did he not need to be restrained? Was he good, finally, after years of struggling?_

_Was Dream worthy of the freedom shoved into his arms?)_

Dream heard the door open slowly, soft voices speaking in low whispers in the hallway beyond the door, too quiet for Dream to hear in his addled state.

He saw a figure move through the door, features and colours blurring together, making whoever it was completely unrecognizable.

They moved closer, their footsteps light as they took a seat next to his bed, holding _something_ in their hands, leaning back and just sitting there.

Dream felt his heart speed up, the steady rhythmic thudding going faster and faster, a pounding beat in his head as he tried desperately to calm himself.

_Who was here? Who was next to him? Why couldn’t he see them? What did they want from him? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?_

_alonealonealonealonealone-_

Dream thought he’d had enough loneliness to last at least his next ten lifetimes.

Whoever sat next to Dream must have noticed his building panic, because they looked up from whatever they were holding and gasped, hands rushing to Dream’s arm in a moment, holding him with shaking hands as they leaned towards him.

A pained whimper tore through Dream’s throat before he could think to stop it, backing up as much as he could in his state.

“Dream?” someone asked, their voice loud and filled with panic and fear, and they couldn’t panic because _Dream_ was panicking and who was going to fix the mess his life had become if everyone was panicking?

He recognized their voice distantly, but his mind was too far gone to place a name to the voice, fear clouding his thoughts as he tried to push himself further away from whoever was next to him.

“Dream, holy shit okay, just uh, fuck- try and like, calm down?” they said, sounding unsure of their own advice and tightening their grip on his arm, keeping him in place, “fuck man, you gotta calm down or you’re gonna fall of the fucking bed.”

Dream paid their words no mind, fingers tugging weakly at the hands on his arm, his feet trying to push himself back on the bed he was laying on, scrambling uselessly against the sheets.

His chest was heaving as he gasped for breath, trying to suck in as much air as he could before it was taken away again and all he had left was the stinging saltwater that torn through his skin and filled his lungs and stung his eyes as he screamed.

He tried to scream now. He opened his mouth to cry, to shout for help, to be let go, to be pulled closer and held gently, but nothing came out.

Tears gathered in his eyes as he tried to speak, hands stopping their attempt at freeing his arm, instead coming up to his throat to claw at the bandaged skin, dragging down his cheeks and his face as he tried to say something, _anything._

“Whoa holy shit dude stop doing that,” whoever was next to him said, their hands moving from Dream’s arm to his wrists, gently tugging them away from Dream’s face.

“Bad!” they screamed, their voice unbelievably loud, ringing in Dream’s ears as he struggled, “Bad jesus christ, he’s freaking out what the fuck do I do?”

The door opened again, and through his tears and hazy vision Dream saw another figure moving towards him, stopping next to whoever was sitting beside him and gently moving them to the side.

The hands left his wrists and Dream immediately clutched them to his chest, holding them as far away from the people as he could.

_(He remembers that chains being snapped shut around his wrists, already slightly too tight, digging into his skin with every movement, already feeling trapped despite those being the only restraints placed on him.)_

“Dream, hey, Dream, you need to calm down okay? Try to match my breathing, in for four, hold for eight, and out for seven, yeah? Just like I taught you-”

The steady stream of one sided conversation was constant, helping Dream focus back in on the world around him, aware of his desperate gasps for breath before trying to copy whoever sat next to him.

He took a shaky breath, holding it for eight seconds before breathing out for seven more, his chest warming at the sound of praise from whoever sat next to him.

The world slowly faded back in, the blurred room coming back into focus, still clouded and foggy, but _there_ nonetheless, the feeling of someone’s hand rubbing his back gently sending warmth through his trembling limbs.

“You back with us?” they asked, and Dream could only nod, hands gently gripping his throat, not hurting him, but just resting there.

That voice was so familiar. Dream knew he had heard it before, searching through muddled memories and remnants of his most recent life, of the family who had thrown him away so readily on that fateful night.

_(“I never wanted it to come to this,” Bad had said that night, walking next to Dream in the silence beneath the moon, no other noise but the rattling of chains with every step they took._

_Dream looked to the side, his eyes meeting Bad’s, a small, sad smile on the demon’s face._

_Dream knew Bad understood him. The man had always understood why Dream did what he did, a sixth sense, as the others liked to joke._

_He didn’t know how the man knew, but he did, and that was all that mattered._

_“I’m sorry,” Dream had said, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them._

_Bad had smiled then, squeezing Dream’s arm gently, offering what little reassurance he could in that moment, a moment they both knew couldn’t end any other way._

_Dream shut his eyes beneath the moonlight, and he knew he could never be sorry enough.)_

Dream opened his mouth to speak, because Bad was _here_ next to Dream, after so many years, but he couldn’t fucking speak or move or do anything.

He heard Bad make a noise as Dream started to cough, shifting in the chair as he turned to whoever else was in the room, his hand still rubbing Dream’s back soothingly.

“Sapnap, go get a glass of water, okay?” Bad asked, and that name alone sent a pang through Dream’s chest.

He gasped for air as he heard Sapnap _(Sapnap, his best friend, was here, in the same room as Dream. He never thought he would see him again, hear his voice again, and here he was, sitting next to the man, close enough to touch but still out of reach-)_ leave, the door shutting softly behind him.

“He’s gonna get some water, and hopefully it will help with your throat,” Bad said calmly, “Phil’s gonna wanna check over your wounds later, you reopened a lot of them, but I think it’s best if you just rest for now.”

The conversation lulled as Bad paused, and even with his vision as messed up as it was, he could feel the argument Bad was having with himself.

“Dream,” Bad said, his voice unsure, “I just, ugh my goodness, _why is this so difficult-_ I just, I wanna apologize.”

Dream froze at those words, his entire body falling still as Bad continued to speak.

“I know that just saying _I’m sorry_ isn’t gonna fix anything, but I really am so sorry, none of us knew what would happen, and if we had known, we never would have done it.

“It doesn’t excuse our actions, not at all, and we understand if you want to move on after this, to never speak to us again, we all get it,” Bad paused, his voice thick with guilt and sorrow, swallowing audibly before continuing, “but, god Dream, it was so scary, walking into Phil’s house and seeing you there, laying in a pool of your own blood, covered head to toe in bandages.

“I cried for at least two days. George, Sapnap and I never left your side, even when it hurt to look at you. And, if you’re okay with it, we’ll stay by your side through all of this, if you want us to. We love you, Dream, even if we did a truly horrible job of showing it.”

Dream sat there in the silence, his mind filled with thoughts and memories, trying to process everything.

They were sorry. They were guilty. They were…

Wrong?

Every moment Dream suffered beneath the waves, Dream thought he had deserved it. He thought he was bad, a villain, a monster, getting what he deserved, what he was always destined to endure.

But, now, sitting on the bed in the room of the house he didn’t recognize, Bad’s hand rubbing his back as Dream sat there and thought, Dream thought that maybe, he hadn’t deserved any of it.

He didn’t deserve to suffer in that way, he hadn’t deserved the isolation or the pain or the fear or even the death. He never had.

But he had gotten it anyways.

He had gone through it all, because the people he had called friends, he had called _family_ decided he deserved it.

Could he forgive them? Could he move on from what he had been through, what they had _put him through?_

Could he leave them behind? Could he walk away from the life he had suffered through so much to build? Could he just abandon the friends he still, despite it all, cared for, clutched close to his heart, no matter how much it hurt?

Dream hadn’t been the only one wronged. He had hurt everyone, manipulated them for his own gain. He had lied and stolen and hurt, just as they had in retaliation.

He didn’t deserve what happened to him, he knew that. But they hadn’t deserved what Dream had done to them either.

No one was ever truly right, and no one was ever truly wrong. They were all making their way through life, ever unsure, questioning every action.

A part of Dream hated them. He hated each and every one of the people who had thrown him to the water, who had watched him sink beneath the waves, unaware of what exactly they had done.

He hated them, and he hated himself for hating them, but he knew it was justified. The anger and hatred that burned deep within him like a fire seconds away from overtaking everything within its grasp was there for a good reason.

But, beyond all of the anger and shame that plagued his mind, he knew there was love.

He thought of his friends, of who they were before the world had fallen apart, before the fighting and the wars and the betrayal, and he felt love and adoration and the pure awe of finding a family he truly cared for.

He hated them so much. he hated what was done to him, and what was taken from him.

But Dream loved them, so fucking much. He loved them with his entire being, a connection he had never found before them.

Dream had loved before. He had found families and friendships that he held close to his heart, that he cherished and loved and lived for until they died.

But never in his hundreds of years of life, had Dream found a family he would die for.

Over, and over, and over again.

Dream knew it would take time. Dream knew it would be hard, and there would be ups and downs and so much struggle and so much fear and pain and sorrow and years worth of hurt.

But there would be forgiveness, eventually.

Dream had waited this long, he could wait again, until he was ready.

“You don’t have to answer now,” Bad said softly, as if he could sense Dream’s thoughts, “you don’t even have to decide, if you really don’t want to. But whatever you choose, we’ll support you through it all. Like we should have done, that night.”

Dream didn’t speak. He didn’t nod or shake his head. He just leaned back, further into Bad’s touch, and shut his eyes, relishing in the warmth he felt.

His hands still shook and his body trembled and his bones ached and his mind still remembered how his lungs filled with water and his eyes still stung and his skin still burned and his mind still reeled with the memories of the echoing loneliness he had felt beneath the waves.

But the hand on his back was warm, and the blanket around him was soft, and his mind was quiet as Bad’s voice, gently reading from the book Sapnap had left was soothing, and Dream finally accepted he was free.

Dream had seen hell, had lived through it for years, and he had come out on the other side.

Not unscathed, not without scars, but whole nonetheless.

He felt resentment burn deep within him, he felt the hurt he had been holding in for years, begging to be let out. He felt hatred and anger building inside.

But he knew, with time, those feelings would be resolved and Dream could move on. He _would_ move on, begin anew as he had so many times before.

Dream would find peace again. There was no other option for a man like him.

He couldn’t afford to live a life of hatred. He lived too long to hold grudges, and loved too openly to hold onto his hate.

But all of that could wait, because now Dream was calm, for just a moment. A moment of clarity in the storm his life had become, raging around him without release.

For now, Dream shut his eyes, and breathed in the air he had gone so long without, and let himself heal, for just a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFDFBHJDFHVGFHGFGF what you all expected: final chapter, everything is resolved and life is good
> 
> what you get: haha extra chapter go brrr, pain with a bittersweet :) at the end, as a treat
> 
> sorry this took so long 2 get out affdhjgfbhjdfhfg school is happening and i have to actually do assignments and shit, what is that about???
> 
> it may be a little while before i post something else, and the last chapter of this is gonna take a bit 2 write, but i will finish it i promise
> 
> next thing i work on is probably gonna be the final chapter of ltpb, so hopefully within like, a week i can finish it :)
> 
> if you liked this pls consider leaving a comment/kudos bc they make me uwu and follow me on instagram if ur interested @ caydiink i post art and shit <3 
> 
> thank u all so much for reading, and im sorry if there are any bad spelling or grammar errors 
> 
> until next time ;)

**Author's Note:**

> here is the sequel that everyone has been asking for AFDFHJGFJHGH i hope it lives up to your expectations!!
> 
> This was gonna be a oneshot, but I kept writing and hadn't gotten to any of the comfort part, so I'm splitting it up into two chapters. i'm not sure when the next one will be out, but hopefully pretty soon!
> 
> thank you so much for making it this far, and if u liked the story pls consider leaving a comment/kudos, and check me out on instagram also @ caydiink
> 
> thank u all so much i love u guys hjKHJKDFJKNFGFGBJHGGH <333 i love reading the comments on my fics, even if i don't get to reply to them all
> 
> see you in chapter 2 aha ;)


End file.
